InkDeath
by Bluesunkatsuri
Summary: Centuries after Orpheus' vile words were spoken, they have now become reality, and the battle between good and evil must once again be fought. But how will his words affect the people of this generation? And is it even still possible for these people to choose their own fate, or has it been sealed long ago? Based on Inkdeath Note: Origins.
1. Chapter 1

**The first chapter for InkDeath. Before you read this, please read_ Inkdeath Note: Origins_ by _LittleMissDragmire_ as well, which I based this on.**

**To LMD: thank you so much for allowing me to use your story to create one of my own. I hope you will like this one.**

**Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, not me. Inkheart belongs to Cornelia Funke. Basically, I own nothing but this story, which I didn't even create completely on my own, so...**

**Well, it is called_ fan fiction_ for a reason, right?**

* * *

Think. Imagine.

A world without words... does it not equal a world without life?

Humans and words have been twined together for beyond our memory. We give them a voice, they give us meaning. We let them breathe, they let us speak.

Words are the sole things as powerful in this world as humanity itself, for a single world can bring joy, and pain. It can bring comfort, it can hurt. Messages of love, and those of hate. Every life starts with words, and a single one can end it just the same.

But only few of us know that it is not the human that writes the word, it's the word that writes the human.

These few people are even more afflicted by the law of words, but also have the power to alter that law. They posess god-like powers, and are known as Silvertongues, named after their art. While we make a word breathe, they give it a beating heart, give it life.

But there are as much demons as there are gods, and the Silvertongues are no exception to this rule. You have the pure Silvertongues, those who only wish to make the world a better place for everyone, and the corrupted ones, those who want nothing more than power and recognition.

Now, long ago, in a world where the written words ruled everyone's fate, a great war was fought. Fire, a Blue jay, treachery, power and words fought this battle of justice. Fire, Blue Jay and a Traitor all worked together, used the words to drive out corruption and those seeking power. Because their hearts were pure and their consciences clean, they succeeded in driving out evil. The Silverking and corrupted Silvertongue were gone, and the world knew nothing but peace for generation after generation.

But the Silvertongue would not admit defeat that easily. He fled, fled to the northern mountains, where he wrote and read, spoke words of destruction and despair. Until this work became his own downfall, his own death.

But once words are spoken, they can never be taken back, and whatever change they would bring, that change would come. Altered fate, the destruction of worlds.

And now, his words have become reality.

* * *

_This world is rotten, _a lone soul thought to himself in a barren wasteland. He remembered times of warmth and beauty, purity and love. But those days were long gone, turned to nothing but vague memories, blurred as if they were nothing but a dream. Maybe that's just what they were, a dream? All the light, all the joy, all the love and warmth, had it never existed at all? There was not a trace of it left, even if it had once been real. Not in this world, not in its inhabitants, in nothing. The existence of these creatures had always been linked to death, always, but they hadn't always been this way. There was a time in which they took away the pain and fear of the dying, not the lives of the innocent. They hadn't ever killed, only guided. But now, that had changed. Now, their purpose was gone, faded like pain. Or joy.

_Things need to change. I need something to do..._

* * *

_This world is rotten_, a lone soul thought to himself, as he was surrounded by dozens and dozens of people, together yet as lonely as himself. Day in and day out, the same thing will be repeated all over again. Just like the heat of summer's fire will fade and become a dark and chilling winter, the light of day making place for the darkness of night, every flame of life will one day be blown out. End of the story. Game over. Dead. But unfortunately, there are some people who like to play extinguisher, pour water over the flames that are still burning and brimming with life, ending their existence prematurely. Day in and day out, the only thing you hear is 'murder here' and 'murder there'. It never ends, it never ends... a vicious cycle that cannot be broken unless a divine power would interfere. The only thing is, to him, if there was this much death and suffering in the world, there was no divinity ruling over them. Not a pure one. Only the devil would let this happen, not god. And it is the devil that should take them all, all of those extinguishers, and let them feel what it is to really burn. Burn deep down in hell for an eternity.

_Things need to change. I need to do something._

* * *

_This world is rotten,_ a lone soul thought to himself in a dark room, lit only by buzzing computers and screens displaying case files, so much of them he didn't even want to bother to count them anymore. He was exhausted, having fought for justice for a week straight with no sleep, chasing criminals around the world yet not leaving this room. But no matter how much criminals he would catch, he was beginning to think, they would never vanish from this world. Every few seconds, someone on Earth has died, and the same moment a new life has begun. Every few seconds, a murderer is caught, and every few seconds another person has committed his first murder. It's just like that. A person is dead, a new one is born. A murderer is caught or executed, a new one enters the stage of the underworld. A cycle, you could call it, a cycle of death and bloodshed, twisted minds and ideals that would never come true. There was practically not one second when he didn't wish he could be more like one of the heroes in detective novels, someone whose work actually pays off, great effort resulting in everlasting peace. But no, that was fiction. And this was reality. And reality is simply a cruel thing, and it'll always be.

_Things need to change. But what more can I do?_

* * *

**If it wasn't clear yet, the first 'thoughts' were Ryuk, then Light, and last came L.**

**I have the second chapter ready, but will not upload it quite yet. First, I want to be sure i have something to go on if I can't write for a little while, so I can still update then ;)**

**Thank you very much for reading, I hope you like it so far. Oh, and though you don't have to, reviews would be much appreciated ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2! I think I will try updating every saturday from now on, perhaps sunday sometimes. At least once a week.**

**I'm very well aware that I don't have a lot of readers, but I guess I should be satisfied with the small amount I have, this being a crossover and all...**

**Also, to LMD and Madelinee: thank you very much for your reviews! I'm glad you both like it so far.**

**Now, this chapter is a little longer than the first one (like, twice as long XD), so I guess I'm happy with this one. I hope you'll enjoy!**

**Disclaimer is in the first chapter, and _come on_! It's _fan fiction, _right?**

* * *

_"And the white books began decaying, turning into their own opposites, serving no longer life, but the cold hands of death._"

It all meant nothing. Being the perfect son, an ace-student, a role model for every teenager. There was no meaning to it all, not until he would finally see the one thing absent in this world: true justice. What did it mean to do everything right, when there was nothing to do it for? This world, this whole world, deserved to burn down. Everything should burn, be consumed by raging fires and turned to ashes. And only those with pure hearts would rise again from their own ash, like a phoenix. A perfect world ruled by true justice, filled with purity, happiness, health... a Utopia. How far away a dream like that becoming reality was.

No, Light Yagami didn't like his life at all. He hated it. But ending it was no option, for that would only cause pain to his family, and knowingly hurting others was a sin in his eyes. And he would never let himself become as low as a suicidal sinner. No, he was already a role model for teenagers in Japan, he would become one for all the people on this filthy planet, trying to show them what is right and what is wrong. Even here, in a normal high school classroom, there was no easier thing than to divide the students into the righteous, and the crooks. Those who study hard and try to make this place as good as it could be, and the lazy ones, the bullies, those who simply didn't care, who failed to look into the future and could only see today. It seemed like Light was close to the only one who cared about this world, who hoped for a brighter, warmer future for humanity. Or that he was the only one foolish enough to believe such a thing could ever exist. Sometimes even he doubted it would, but nevertheless he refused to give up hope. One day, a warmth would wash over this planet, letting all those with cold hearts melt and fade away to nothingness, while all those with pure hearts would be able to keep on living peacefully and happy. He could only hope he would live to see that day.

As he was staring outside while still listening to the teacher's instructions, something drew his attention away from the lesson. Ah, it was English, anyway. Something was falling down from the sky, only just outside the window. Strange, because since when did it rain... _notebooks_? In the split second he had seen it, Light had already noticed few features of the object: it was all-black, though there seemed to be something scribbled on it in white or grey, and it was a college-type notebook. _Perhaps it fell out of the window of one of the higher floors,_ he thought to himself. _Maybe I can see if I can bring it back to the owner, then..._

"Hey, Yagami!" His teacher's voice brought him back to the present situation. Oh, right... English class... Slightly embarassed, he turned to look at his sensei, who stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "You're our top-student, Yagami," He said to the teenager. "We can't afford to have your attention drift off like that as well, understood?"

Light bowed his head in respect and apology, quickly mumbling, "Yes, sensei. I'm sorry, it won't happen again", before looking up to see dark brown eyes twinkling mischievously. Something one would not like to see on their teacher's face. At all. "Very well, then," the man said with a small smirk. "Then please recite this line in English. And from now on, keep your mind on the lesson, not the clouds."

With a soft sigh, Light obliged.

* * *

At the end of the day, when the sun was already low in the sky and nearing sunset, school finally ended and all the students were either making plans for the weekend, chatting with friends or heading home. Light did the latter, not bothering to talk with those he sometimes called 'friends', but were in reality no more than just some other humans to him, just some other people he harldy cared about, for they were no different from the others. All he wanted was to go home, shut himself in hi room and study for the upcoming entry exams for To-oh University, the best university in Tokyo. But just when he was about to leave the school terrain, he remembered the notebook he had seen falling. Who knows, someone might've picked it up already, but if it was still there, it was best if he tried to find out who owned it. Some people actually take important notes instead of just doodling other than himself, so losing a notebook might actually be disastrous to them. For a moment, he wasn't quite sure anymore where it had fell, but then he spotted the shining black cover lying in the grass, where the shadows had already cast a darkness over the ground. Once he got close to it, though, he started to doubt that this was just an ordinary notebook more with the second, for several reasons. One: it didn't quite look like one. Close, but not quite. Two: when he picked it up, the cover felt somewhat rougher than it should, like a lizard's scales, but dry and sand-like at the same time. Three: it had a title that made a shiver run down his spine, once he registered it well. _Death Note._ Like what, a notebook of death? What did such a thing mean? They shone pale-silver, letters like chips of ice pasted on top of the notebook, or in it, actually. It looked as cold as the meaning of those words...whatever they might mean. No, don't get that wrong: he knew very well what _'Death'_ meant, and that _'Note'_ stood for notebook here. Absolutely. He could even copy a dictionary when it came to English words, if he had to. _Death; Shiin. (De-s__u__). Meaning: to be dead; deceased; death. Verb: to die;..._ well, you get the idea. But those words together, notebook and death, he just didn't have a clue.

Curiosity taking over, the young teen opened the notebook to see what was in it. But just as he was about to flip the pages and scan through, he noticed there was nothing written in it at all. Except for the first page, which was all black, just like the cover, with white letters on it. The edges and corners were slightly decorated, it seemed, with the same thin, white lines, and at the top was a skull, it's empty eye sockets strangely staring and haunting. If his hair wasn't standing on end already, it was now. Again, it was written in English, which was despite his good grades and skill, quite a pain to figure out. _How to use_, it said. It even has a manual? What kind of-? _The human whose name is written in this notebook shall_- Light's eyes widened at reading the last word. _Die._ So, if you write someone's name in this thing, they'll... die? For a moment, his mind was on hold, and time seemed to stop, but then he just shook his head and placed the thing back on the ground just the way he had found it, before turning around and heading home once again. _What a sick joke_, he thought._ It's no different from those chain-mails you get, saying you have to copy it or bad things will happen to you. _His pace slowed down a little, and a little more so. _A notebook that can kill people? Ridiculous. Whoever made that thing must be real stupid, thinking someone might actually believe it's real._ And even slower, to the point where he stood still._ It just can't be real, not in a million years. _He tilted his face upward, to the now-setting sun, and slowly turned it back to the shadows he had just emerged from. _And that's why there is no harm in me taking it._

_Is there?_

* * *

_Same moment, England:_

Something was wrong, he just knew it. He's always had a knack for feeling when new cases would appear somewhere in the world: he'd always get this ominous feeling that something wasn't right when it was a major case. Only this time, he didn't mean there was something wrong in _that_ particular way. This time, something about that dreaded feeling itself was off, different. It made the whole thing only worse.

He shifted in his seat and sighed, only to break off in a yawn few seconds later. "Good timing... just when I've decided to take a break..." Just then, the door to the room opened, letting in a large amount of quite unexpected light, managing to startle the young man even if just a little. Then he just relaxed again and, without turning around, greeted the person coming inside. "Hello, Watari... I thought you'd come later on. Tomorrow, right?"

"That was indeed my intention, but my work seemed to be done faster than that." The elderly man answered, in a voice that made the other certain that he was once again smiling, even if he couldn't see it. Only a second later, Watari stood beside, glancing at what he had been doing. Amused, the old man shook his head slowly. "L, working with computers in this darkness is bad enough already: don't read in it as well."

"I was done reading anyway... for now." L answered simply, raising his shoulders indifferently. Indifferent untill Watari picked up the open book from its place on the detective's knees and closed it -L would remember which page he was at, anyway- then proceeded to read the summary on the back. "Demons?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't know you were into the supernatural. Last week, it were spirits, and now demons..." Now, L looked up at the man, who was staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and worry. "Don't tell me the occult is next!"

L just couldn't help but laugh at this. "Never! At least, not outside books. But you know I've always liked supernatural, and fantasy: I've seen enough reality, that's for sure." He changed his expression to a 'can I have my book back now?' one, but Watari didn't seem to (want to) notice it. "Anyway, L," the old man went on, changing the topic. "What is that I just heard before coming in? You're not taking on another case again, are you?" That look in his eyes! Really, Watari could make you feel guilty even when you've done nothing but breathe and sit still. L quickly shook his head, hoping he could get rid of that blue gaze that way. "Of course not! When I say I'm taking a break," _wether you ordered me to or I chose it on my own -the latter of which never happens,_ he added silently while sighing, before continuing. "I mean it. I'm not taking on a new case... _yet_... trust me." Hopeless words. Truly hopeless. Watari wouldn't trust him, no matter what he did or said. The man never did in the first place! No reason to, either. Since Watari hadn't mentioned it even once, L assumed he was not yet aware of the only secret the young detective had, and L had no intention in ever letting him know. For all Watari knew, he just liked reading, that's it, nothing more to it.

If only he knew...

He looked up when Watari turned and walked away, taking the book with him. "H-hey, Watari-!" L called after him, but the elderly man just looked at him over his shoulder, smirking. "You said you were done reading for today, didn't you?" he asked with a rather mischievous hint in his voice. Then he pulled the door closed and was gone. "Goodnight, L. And this time, make sure to actually get some rest!"

L huffed angrily, then turned his back on the now-closed door and rested his chin upon his knees. The asshole... yes, L did care about Watari, saw him almost like a father, but the man could be so _annoying_. Treating the detective like some stubborn child. Okay, given, if L wanted that to stop, perhaps _he_ should stop _acting_ like a stubborn child, but still...

_Indeed, 'but still'... Still, I feel there's something not completely right here... _

_But what?_

* * *

**Ehm... maybe L's gonna be some sort of psychic or something? XD Guess not... the ability he'll have is supernatural enough, nyeh?**

**I hope you liked this chapter, and thanks for reading. Again, if you have the time, reviews would be very much appreciated as well )**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, my chapters are only getting longer so far... I'm finaaly getting the hang of it XD**

**I hope that you will like this chapter~!**

**Disclaimer... is it even necessary anymore? I own practically nothing, anyway...**

* * *

_"The books of death will one day be used, used by a descendant of Firedancer. This descendant strives to create a better world for the righteous, and believes to be using the power of death in the name of justice. However..."_

Light came back home later than normal, and when he entered his house he walked right past his mother, only so much as muttering a greeting before locking himself up in his room. Being the perfect, well-manered teenager he was, his strange behaviour did not go unnoticed by his family. Yet, they did not bother him, and that was a great relief to the boy. Something made him feel sick, even if it was only a little. Yes, he had taken the Death Note with him, and it was sitting in his bag right this moment. He knew very well that the thing could not be real, that such powers did not exist outside movies and books, the world of fiction, but still...

On the off chance that it _was_ real... weapons were forbidden in Japan, and if this thing could kill, then wasn't it illegal to have it in possession? His father worked at the NPA, would that turn out to be positive or negative for him?

No, no it wasn't real, anyway.

...he could always test it to prove, right?

Calm once again, he sat down at his desk and pulled the black notebook out of his bag, and flipped it open. He had read only that one rule on the first page, the one that said anyone whose name is written in it would die, but he had already seen there were more written in it. Plenty.

_If there is no cause of death specified within forty seconds from writing the name, the cause will be a heart attack._

_If there is a cause written, it will happen. After this, details of the death should be specified within six minutes and forty seconds from writing the name, and it will happen._

Well well, Light thought. This is pretty detailed for a prank, I'll give you that. He chuckeled to himself for all his idiotic thoughts, even considering this might not be fake after all. How stupid, of cours this was just a prank. A notebook of death, ridiculous. He shoved it aside and turned to his tv, and turned it on while shaking his head slowly. Just forget that thing, he told himself. That's the best thing to do.

There was something on right now that caught his attention. Something about... a man holding kids and employees of a daycare hostage? How _disgusting._ Another sick action of an utterly twisted mind. Whatever did people like that think...?

_Wait a moment..._

_"The culprit is suspected to be a man called Kurou Otoharada..."_ the reporter said, and that was about as much as Light even listened to. Now, they displayed a picture of the man on the broadcast as well... he had a name, he had a picture, even. He glanced at the Death Note that lay on the corner of his desk, flipped open by the way he had tossed it aside. Almost unconsciously, his hand slowly reached out to it, his fingerstips brushed against the cover, and before he knew what he was doing, it lay in front of him, opened on the very first page. And a pen was only few inches away.

_Should I try...?_

* * *

_"The descendant of Blue Jay will try to prevent the descendant of Firedancer from ruling the world with his cold deeds, fighting against this person with all his might."_

"Watari," L said as he walked into the elderly man's room, his legs a little unstable as a sensation he was far too familiar with ran through his body as though it ran through his veins. Far too familiar indeed, this uncomfortable, slightly ominous feeling of worry, worry not for his safety or that of anyone he knew, but for that of the whole world, the purity of mankind. Sometimes he still wondered how it had ever happened, how humanity had ever fallen this deep. There was no saving it anymore, the damage done was too great for any hope of salvation, but if only there were more people like himself, maybe they could at least slow the process... but he was alone in his work. And though he wished he could, this was a job that couldn't be done by a single soul on his own. Well, on his own wasn't exactly right, either. At least he had Watari.

"What is it, L?" Watari asked as he turned around to face the young man. His face, which had shown only a kind, warm smile just now, became one expressing worry, and somewhat like anger as well. Why wouldn't he, if he knew what it meant when L looked like this, slightly uncertain of whether what he did was enough or not, even though he had spent more than half his life solving cases and catching criminals. No one could ever convince him he was working hard enough, that there was no need for him to try only harder and harder to find a cure for humanity. Watari could only sigh, since he knew that there was no way of stopping the detective when this kind of thing happened. "Another case?"

L just nodded.

"How serious is it this time?"

Now, L shifted a bit, not sure of what to answer. "Well, I guess.. this one might take a few months, once I'll start working on it."

"You mean, you won't start yet?" Surprise sounded through in the man's voice, an unhidden curiosity. "Why? The sooner you start, the sooner your finished, right?"

The young detective shook his head, then walked over to the couch and sat down on it, or rather crouched, with his knees pulled up to his chest. His dark eyes were fixed on the table, which was empty, staring at nothing yet so many things that were invisible to anyone but him. "The case itself hasn't provided enough information to go on yet. In fact, I don't even know what it's about, if it is murder or something with the mafia or anything else, I just... know something's coming. Soon." Yes, L had something you might as well call a 'case-sensor', for he got this feeling ever single time a major case would soon open. It was something he had never understood, and something Watari didn't quite believe in. The man was against everything that couldn't be explained by science and common sense, and sometimes, L wondered if he shouldn't be like that as well. After all, everything that couldn't be explained by that could be defined as abnormal or supernatural, and they weren't called that for no good reason. 'Above normal' didn't exist. 'Beyond natural' didn't, either. The word itself said that much. And yet...

Watari shook his head, clearly not believing it at all. Like always. "We'll see," was all he muttered before turning back to his work, paying no attention to the younger man anymore. Again, exactly as he always does when L says something like that.

Somewhat disappointed, the detective turned his back on his father figure and picked up the very first book he saw, flipped it open and began to read. He had no cases to work on now, anyway, for he had just closed the last four he had been working on. He didn't really care what he was about to read, either. He liked everything, so long as it would distract him a bit. However, he hadn't even finished the first page when Watari's voice came, saying: "L, if you're gonna do nothing anyway, please do so somewhere else. Unlike you, I still have work to do."

L muttered a bit, part of which was "Because you're so slow in everything you do, that's why!", and left. He wasn't doing anything to keep Watari from his work, so why would he even have to? But the old man's words were law around here, and L'd better obey them, whether they made sense or not.

The disappointment and ruined mood soon faded away, though, as he realised he could do the one thing he loved to do. The one thing he would always keep a secret from Watari, fro everyone he'd ever meet. Everyone except a few, that is. Everyone other than them would only think of him as crazy, and if he showed proof that he was right, they'd... in truth, he had no idea. Perhaps kill him? You never know...

And besides, what's so wrong about having a secret or two, and lying from time to time?

* * *

He felt sick, so twisted and sick, as the words and sight kept on echoeing and repeating themselves in every part of his mind and soul. It had been going on for hours and hours now, ever since _it_ happened the night before. It...

_I knew it, Light thought after forty seconds had past after writing Kurou Otoharada's name in the supposed killing notebook. Nothing happpened. Of course not._

_Satisfied now that he had at least tried it out, and confirmed the notebook was fake for himself, he grabbed the remote control and was about to turn off his television when-_

_"W-wait, we've just got new information!" the reporter exclaimed, abruptly going silent as she seemed to listen intently to what she was being told through a small receiver in one of her ears. A short, yet seeming to be an eternity, moment passed by before she spoke again. "This just got in! It appears the criminal is letting the hostages go!" And on the background, as though following an order, the todlers and employees all ran out of the daycare, some kids were crying, but they all seemed to be unharmed. The reporter went on: "Some witnesses reported that Otoharada suddenly grabbed his chest and collapsed, then died. Th-the culprit has died! What on earth is going on?"_

_Light froze as he watched this, and his mind was spinning so that he couldn't even comprehend anything else that was said anymore. All he knew, was that he had written Kurou's name in that notebook that supposedly kill people, and now, the man was dead..._

_It... it could have been coincidence, he decided, while his whole body felt cold with dread. Yes, just coincidence..._

Right now, the teen could only be glad that it was saturday, and that there was no school or homework to be done. With all this distracting him, there was no way he would've been able to do that as well. He was outside right now, taking a stroll through the city, for he simply needed some fresh air.

Coincidence... did that even exist at all? So many people kept telling you things like, 'coincidence doesn't exist', but Light didn't want to believe any of that right now. The Death Note was a joke, a sick and twisted joke, and it couldn't be real no matter what. So what, one guy died after he wrote his name down? Hah, that doesn't prove anything! He might've had health problems all along, after all. There was no need for him to worry about anything. He was no murderer, he was a raging fire, and only wanted the fire of other people to burn as well. The fire that keeps them all alive...

"N-no, stop it!" a woman shrieked further down the road, and Light saw several men on motorbikes surrounding her. "L-let me go!" They were trying to unbutton her jeans, and Light could already guess what would come next. As he passed by, he gave them not a single glance -such people were dangerous to get even slight contact with- and went into the bookstore right next to him, where he knew he could keep an eye on them while looking as though he was reading. He could only just hear one of the men say: "Oi, babe! No need to be so scared, hm? My name's Takuo Shibuimaru, by the way. But you may just call me Shibui Takuo*!" (_shibui means cool, so 'cool Takuo')_

Light bit his bottom lip, knowing there was only one thing he could try to help that woman. Only one thing, if he didn't want to get in trouble himself. But then again...

No. He had to try.

He opened his bag, where he kept his school books (he had been planning to go to a park or library and study if he managed to calm down enough after last night), and the pitch-black notebook was once again pulled out. He picked the very first magazine he saw from the shelves, flipped it open and hid his Death Note behind the open pages, grabbing a pencil as well. _Takuo Shibuimaru_, he thought. _There are so many ways of writing that name... and didn't the Death Note's rules say it would be renderred useless if I misspell a name too often?_ But he had to try at least. The men had almost managed to strip the poor lady now, almost managing to pull her jeans down, though she was struggling and fighting back quite well.

Determined to help her, and confirm wether the notebook was real or not once and for all, the teenager started writing. Writing the name, the name of that terrible filth called Takuo. In the end, he's had to try eight different ways of spelling it, and he could only hope the right one as in the first four. Also, since a sudden heart attack would be suspicious (and still not convincing enough to him, in all honesty) he had added a cause of death for the man. Accident.

_Now, we wait_...

"NO!" the woman schreeched as one of the men stuck his hand down her hip, and with strength flowing only from fear and desperation, swatted his arm away and finally managed to free herself from their grasps. Running as fast as she possibly could, she crossed the street and kept on fleeing. But Takuo had jumped onto his bike, and was about to speed after her, calling: "Hey, baby, don't run from us, we're not going to hurt you!" Then, suddenly, a large truck came round a corner, roaring over the street while at exactly the same moment, Takuo tried crossing it to go after the lady. She just managed to reach the other side and escape the hard steel of the truck, but Takuo...

Takuo had only just a second to turn around and see the truck approaching sickingly fast, then came a loud bang and the sound of metal being brusked and ripped apart, and as the truck roared past, there was nothing left of him but a crumpled, torn corpse covered in blood amidst the crushed pieces of what was once his motorbike.

As he watched this gruesome scene, Light's legs felt wobly and his stomach twisted and turned.

This... This proves it...

_The Death Note is real!_

* * *

**It took me three chapters to get to this point it the story, and the first episode/manga chapter isn't even done yet at this point in the story... geesh, this is more detailed than any story I've written so far!**

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it! About the reviews... well, you know the drill... would be appreciated, but if you don't want to, just don't.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh well, shorter chapter this time.**

**BUT there are two new characters to be introduced in this chapter~! Well, okay, one of them has made an appearance in the first chapter, but that was such a small itty-bitty bit...**

**Also, thanks for the new Story Favorite, really loved seeing that in my inbox :D**

**Disclaimer... you know the drill... I'm sick of disclaimers after my last two fics (together like 120 chapters, every chapter a disclaimer... -_-')**

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_"The descendant of Violante, still so much intrigued by if not in love with that of the Blue Jay..."_

She seriously had no idea why she even still had this thing. It was useless, it held no significance at all, it served not even the purpose of decoration due to it looking like junk. Well, it was a piece of junk after all, so that wasn't at all surprising her. So why did she keep it, after all this time? Because it reminded her of him? Ridiculous, truly ridiculous. She could think of that person than by looking at..._this_, of all things.

A shard. A mere shard, of a laptop, no less. Why a shard would remind her of someone? Because it was this laptop she had to destroy after L first contacted her. L, the world-famous detective that no one knows. She still thought it was a miracle and pure luck for her that L chose her of all people to work for him to catch the culprit of the Wara Ningyo Murders, better known these days as the LABB Murder Case. Naomi Misora, a FBI on a leave of absence who was also known as the 'Misora Massacre', what in her had caused him to entrust her with a case as big as that one? She wasn't special in any way, there were far better agents than her in the bureau -especially now, since she wasn't even part of it any more. No, Naomi had quit the FBI only few weeks ago, in anticipation of her marriage with Ray. While he was still working in the bureau, she was 'assigned' (fully by herself, of course) to pack their things slowly, bit by bit, for they would leave for her birthcountry Japan in just two weeks from now.

Her beloved Ray... yet, she couldn't stop thinking about that one weird detective either, the one she only ever spoke to through computer and cellphone, always a scrambler that messed up his voice. She had no idea if he was even 'he' at all. For all Naomi and the rest of the world knew, the world's top detective could be female. Who knew? Only L himself (herself?) of course, and perhaps that Watari person Naomi once heard about. Ray once mentioned it was almost as if Naomi was obsessed with L, he really did. She constantly asked things such as 'has L contacted the bureau for a case?' (which he/she sometimes did) or 'have you heard anything about L?'. Or else she would be scanning the newspapers or the internet for any news about the mysterious detective. She even muttered things about him/her in her sleep, Ray had told her.

She had no idea why she was so intrigued by L, really. But she was, ever since they had first contacted eachother for LABB. She would constantly think along the lines of 'I wonder if he's working on another case again' and 'where would he be now?' or 'is he undercover somewhere? And if so, is he safe?'. Obsessed? No, how silly of Ray to think that. Just very, very interested in him and his never-ending battle for justice. That's all, no more, no less.

Naomi shook her head and walked over to a trashcan, shard still in her hand. This case was almost two years ago, when she was still an agent. Still living another life. She was gonna get married soon, move back to Japan temporarily -maybe permanently, she wasn't sure yet- and live the life of houswife and maybe one day even mother. She already left the bureau behind her, was about to leave America, and she would have to leave LABB and the person that assigned her that case behind as well. She had already opened the bin and held the shard above it, when she heard a bird's call from outside. She looked up, outside the window, and saw a beautiful blue jay sitting on a branch only few feet away from the window, its dark eyes staring intently at her. Their eyes locked, and suddenly, she felt so connected even to a mere bird like that... there was something about it that drew her attention to it. Absent-minded, she raised the shard for the bird to look at, which then let out another cry. Naomi bit her lip, and opened the bin once again, ready to just get rid of the useless item. And once again, the bird began staring at her. Naomi then took a step back, away from the trashcan, and looked back at the jay. It blinked once and flew off after this. And it was that moment that Naomi Misora realised that, whatever reason she would have to get rid of it, there was just no way she couls let go of that shard.

No way she could let go of L...

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_Well_, the vile-looking creature thought to himself as he slowly heaved himself to his feet. _It's about time I got going._

He had been waiting for this moment for the past week now. Ever since he had dropped his Death Note. And now, finally, it was time for him to leave and have some excitement enter his centuries-long life, and wash away all the boredom. Of course, he had been inspecting the human that had picked it up, and the kid was promising. Of all the stories this creature had heard of humans getting their hands on the killer notebooks before, he had heard not a single one similar to this. He passed two other death gods on his way to the portal, Gook and Deridovely, who both looked up at him as he casually walked by. "Hey, Ryuk, where're ya goin'?" Deridovely asked, his voice already full of held-back laughter. He was a bully to every other death god in their whole realm, if there ever was one. Gook immediately saw it as his duty to make a continuation-comment: "Sorry to tell you, Ryuk, but our whole world looks like this, ya know?"

"I know that," the bored death god answered. "I'm gonna search for my Death Note."

"You dropped it?!" Gook exclaimed, breaking off in hoarse laughter and the clacking of bones caused by his skull-like head. "You really messed up this time, Ryuk!" Deridovely couldn't help but add, doing his best not to laugh -yet. "D'you know where you dropped it, then?"

"Yeah," Ryuk rasped back, turning his back on the two death gods. They had a right to know what was going on in the realm and what its inhabitants were doing, so he didn't even try to deny the truth, though they probably wouldn't even care in the least. "the human world."

He heard the shocked exclamations from the two other gods, but he didn't stop or even slow down his pace at all. He was determined to finally get what he so craved -excitement, adrenaline and a nice show to enjoy. And it would come to him in the form of a mere human being using the Death Note, thinking he knows its powers and is careful enough not to lose his mind... but only thinking so. No normal, none-divine power would ever be able to get in touch with a Death Note and not be either scared by it, or getting absorbed by its powers and slowly going insane. Ryuk could only hope this person's mind was strong enough to last for a while, for he didn't want his brand-new entertainment to disappear quite yet.

He arrived at the portal to the human world, and went down, down, down.

Down to Earth, to a continent, down to a country, a city...

Down to Tokyo.

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**Yup, Naomi and Ryuk this time! Sorry for the short chapter, but I'm already glad I managed to get myself to even update!**

**Thanks for reading, and i hope you liked it~!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm sorry this took so long! Three weeks... jeesh, sorry... I just lost inspiration for a little while.**

**I'll try not to let the gap between this and the next chapter get this long, I swear!**

**Disclaimer: Wow, I'm finally writing a disclaimer again... heh. I do not own Death Note or Inkheart. Or Sherlock Holmes, for he makes a small appearance in this chapter as well ;)**

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_"Death's children, the White Women, had lost reason as much as their White Books had, thus changed into twisted monsters that care not for easing one's death, but only spreading it. Yes, they became..."_

"Uaaahhhh!" The creature let out an amused chuckle as the teenager he had in front of him nearly screamed his lungs to pieces. Fear lay unhidden in his brown eyes as he looked up at what to him looked like a monster. And a monster it was.

"Why are you acting so surprised?" he rasped once the boy finally calmed down, sitting on the floor, for he had fallen of his chair when he spotted the monster. "I think you knew I was coming anyway, didn't you?" At this, the boy got up and stood with a straight back and a confident face, looking directly at the creature in front of him. Nevertheless, slight uncertainty and fear still lay in his eyes, no matter how hard he fought to hide it. "You're right, I was only shocked by your entrance," he answered, a smirk appaering on his face. It was that moment that the creature first realised that this guy was a real actor, determined to reach his goals by any means necessary. His expression gave it al away. Since a smile was already permanently etched upon his face, the creature needed only to think to express his feelings that moment, his eyes would give it away as the mortal one's had. He was perfect for this. Perfect. The human went on, "in fact, I've been expecting you..._shinigami._"

The shinigami laughed again, mumbling "You're a smart one, aren't you?" as he walked to the desk where the jet-black notebook lay. _His_ notebook, well, formerly his. It now belonged to the human, and the human belonged to him. That was one of the rules, though he was sure the kid would think of it the other way around: that _he_ owned both the notebook and the reaper. How wrong he would be.

The amount of names written in the death note shocked even the shinigami, for he had never seen this many names in a single notbook before, not even in his own realm. And considering the short period of time the human had used it, he must be a true psychopath -only he didn't realize so himself yet. And the shinigami guessed he never would, either. Not before it was too late, that is. "You've written a lot of names already, Light," he commented, not bothering to even consider the kid's reaction at him knowing his name already. "I've never heard of humans writing this much before." If even possible, his smile grew wider as he turned back to Light. "I am Ryuk, by the way."

"Yes, yes I have considered that already."

"All right, youngster. And what about the option of the culprit being-"

"Not an organisation but a single person. Yes, I have not just taken that into consideration, I am basically convinced of that already."

"Very well, then. If that's the case, I'm afraid I cannot help you much more, young'un."

L rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh as he placed his chin in the palm of his hand, his arm resting on his knees, and he looked at the man sitting in front of him. He looked exactly the same as everyone alsways depicted him: old-english style of dressing, pipe in his mouth, everything was there. "I already concluded that. Thanks though, mister Holmes." Sherlock just nodded, and was about to ready his pipe for some more smoking. L quickly interupted him by saying: "Oh, mister Holmes, please don't smoke inside. The scent will linger, and I don't want to have to explain all this to Watari -he'll think it was _me_, you see. Plus, I just can't stand the scent of it, sorry."

Sherlock Holmes just laughed. "That's quite all right, youngster. This Watari, is he your Watson? A partner in your job as a detective? You've spoken about him a few times already." L just nodded, but stayed quiet. He's had conversations with this man many times before, and didn't think talking to a fictional character was weird anymore at all. Not to him, that is. Just as the older man never seemed to be surprised anymore when he suddenly found himself in a completely other world. It was becoming a monthly routine fot the two, almost. Whenever L was stuck on a case, he would ask the fictional super-detective for advice or help, and usually it paid off. But this particular case was harder than any puzzle he's had in front of him ever before, and even the world-famous sherlock Holmes had trouble with deducing things with the little and nearly incomprehensible information they had: sudden deaths among criminals, mostly by cardiac arrest. Heart attacks. There were nearly a hundred victims by now, perhaps more. And so far, it appeared to be homicide at that, and to make it all even more complicated: all information led to the conclusion that it was a single person behind all this. But how was such a thing possible, if criminals around the world were dropping dead only minutes, if not seconds, after eachother? Just as L was about to say something, he saw movement on one of the few computer screens: a surveillance of the front door. Watari was back from... wherever he had been.

"Mister Holmes, I'm afraid I'll have to send you back to your world now. Thank you for your help, sir, I'm sure it will be usefull to me in the near future." Sherlock just nodded, smiling, as L grabbed his novel and quickly picked a few good lines to read in order to send the man back to where he came from -the pages of a book, the world behind the ink. Paper with letters written on it were like a door to him, a portal between worlds. Every book led to another one, a world full of mystery, a world so much mor exciting than his. But just worlds, just like the one he lived in. Despite sometimes being sick of the life he led, working almost twenty-four hours a day, L never longed to go to another one of the worlds, partially because he had too much responsibilities in this one, but mostly because he felt he didn't belong there. This was his place, nowhere else. All the characters he brought to life, he would bring back to their own worlds within a day. Never had he broken that rule, and he never would either. After some quick reading, words rolling off his tongue as though they were made specially for him to speak, the famous Sherlock Holmes was gone, and L was alone in his room once again. He then quickly tossed the novel aside and began creating documents on the things he and Sherlock had just discussed about this murderer -called Kira on the internet. Just that moment, Watari came in. L turned around on his chair and greeted the old man with a small smile, as he always did. "Hello, Watari."

Never would he tell his father figure his secret. Never.

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**I hope that the few readers I have are not mad at me for taking so long to update... pretty please?**

**I'll update sooner next time, really. I just hope you enjoyed this chapter... and thanks for reading!**


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